SGA AUs I'm Not Writing
by Chance2
Summary: Ten SGA AUs I'd never even think of writing and these are not them. Idea borrowed from rageprufock, but kinda grew a life of its own. Gen and ship John/Teyla . Warning: lots of crack.
1. New Amsterdam

**1. New Amsterdam:  
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_**A/N: New Amsterdam was a short-lived show about a New York cop who is, for all practical purposes, immortal. He is cursed to live until he finds his true love. Consequently, he's lived for about 400 years, had numerous wives, and more than a few descendents. It was cracktastic.**_

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John Sheppard glanced over at his new partner, Teyla Emmagen, as she slid onto the bar stool next to him.

She looked over her shoulder at the scene : the thick cloud of cigarette smoke that hung in the air; the din of voices, the clink of glasses, and the music floating in from a far corner; the well-worn veneer of a bar that had seen too many customers and not as many remodels.

John loved every inch of it. It was as much home as anything had ever been. Then again he could barely recall those places he'd called home before the Boston Tea Party.

"Nice place," Teyla commented.

John took a sip of his club soda. "Evening, Detective. Didn't expect to see you here."

"Dex said this was your usual haunt." She glanced down the length of the bar. "Is it possible to get a drink here?"

John nodded to Rodney who was drying a glass near the end of the bar. He'd had eagle-eyes on them from the moment Teyla had sat down. "Rodney, pour the detective a drink, would ya? Put it on my tab."

"You don't have a tab," Rodney retorted.

"Now is as good a time as any to start one." He downed his club soda and shook the empty glass in Rodney's direction, the ice cubes clinking against the side.

Rodney ambled over. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, filling it up. He looked expectantly at Teyla. "You must be the new partner. What can I get you?"

"Scotch, neat."

"A drinker after my own heart," John said, eyeing the bottle of scotch that Rodney pulled from the collection behind the bar – an eighteen year-old Glenlivet – and quickly took a sip of his club soda, trying to soothe the sudden urge to drink something stronger.

"You're drinking club soda, Sheppard."

John bobbed his head with a hint of a smile. "I've been sober for 15,501 days."

She seemed to be getting used to his strange statements because she just raised her eyebrows and said, "Uh-huh."

"Don't believe me?"

"I do not know what to believe, Sheppard, except that you must have lined a number of pockets to pass your psych eval."

Rodney flipped the towel over his shoulder before pointing at John. "She's got your number." To Teyla he said, "Maybe you'll be around longer than his last five partners."

_Kids. No respect for their parents these days_, John thought as he gave Rodney's retreating back a dark look. "So why did you hunt me down, Teyla?"

"You did not answer your phone," she replied, taking a sip of her scotch.

John smiled. "And you were worried that I might be lying on the side of the road somewhere?" He fingered his glass. "Did you know that when Lincoln was assassinated, it took up to three months for many people in the Midwest to hear about it? It's amazing how far communication has come in such a short time."

"Let me guess: you were a poor wheat farmer in Indiana when Lincoln was shot."

Rodney snorted loudly at that.

John ignored it. "Surgeon in Maryland, actually."

Teyla sighed. "We are supposed to be partners, Sheppard. That means when you get information pertaining to a case you call me, and when I get the same, I call you. You might be confused on how that works but I am not."

She was feisty, he had to give her that. He liked feisty, especially in a partner. It was an attribute he admired in those who had everything to lose. But, he thought, maybe that was why they approached life head-on – there was no satisfaction to be won from playing it safe, and the potential to fail was the same as the potential to succeed.

He threw a look Rodney's way to where he had started arguing heatedly with a regular about an unpaid tab. Fondly, John recalled that Rodney's mother had possessed that same inner fire, but she'd also been one of the sweetest souls he'd ever met. John sometimes wondered how Rodney had neither inherited his mother's sympathetic nature nor John's own easy-going temperament. But Rodney had a character all his own – willful, stubborn, and endlessly loyal – and John knew that that was as much a legacy to him and Susan as anything else.

"So what did you need to tell me?"

"CSU found several sets of fingerprints that do not belong to anyone in the family, including one on a round still in the chamber."

John swiveled to face her. "It's not the husband's?"

Teyla looked amused. "No. And Dex found out that Mr. Nelson had an ex-wife."

"Amicable split?"

"Anything but." She pulled her notebook out of her jacket pocket. "These are her work and home addresses."

John glanced at them then nodded.

"Dex was not pleased that your hunch might be accurate again," said Teyla. She stared at John's reflection in the mirror behind the bar. "He is still clinging to the hope that it was a simple murder-suicide."

"Nothing about murder is ever simple."

"Now you are guru as well as a detective. I will let the captain know he should be paying you double."

Rodney snorted down a laugh having wandered close enough to hear the conversation again. When John looked at him, Rodney said, "I like her."

John smiled crookedly and raised his eyebrows at Teyla. "You earned Rodney's stamp of approval, and believe me, that's no easy feat."

"And you?"

John cocked his head to the side, studying her for a moment. "Keep up the good work."

"Was that an answer?" Teyla asked Rodney, who shrugged.

"It's as much of one as you're going to get from him. You'll get used to it." He poured another finger of scotch into her glass. "Here. On the house." When she raised her eyebrows, Rodney said, "You're gonna need it."


	2. NCIS

**2. NCIS**

Officer Teyla Emmagen glared at her partner as another paperclip bounced off of her desk. "Stop it, John."

Special Agent John Sheppard gave her a look of wide-eyed innocence that she didn't believe for a moment. "Stop what?"

Teyla looked across the bullpen to the third member of their team, Special Agent Rodney McKay, for support, but he just shrugged, obviously not wanting to attract John's unwanted and considerably restless attention. She sighed and went back to work.

She had typed out another sentence and a half on her report when another metal missile came her way, this time bouncing off of her forehead.

"John!"

"What?"

Teyla grabbed an eraser from her desk drawer and chucked it at him as hard as she could. It caught him squarely on his left eye.

"Ow!" he cried. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, protective tears quickly seeping out. "What was that for?"

Teyla glared at him unapologetically. "Do not play innocent. It does not become you."

He took his hand away from his eye and blinked a few times. From across the aisle, Teyla could see how bloodshot his left eye was.

"I think I might be blinded for life," he said.

"Then that'll be an important lesson learned on not throwing things at your teammates," their boss, Special Agent Jack O'Neill, said as he strode into the bullpen and towards his desk.

"But, boss—"

"Uh-uh, save it, Sheppard. Gear up."

John jumped to his feet, his discomfort obviously forgotten with the prospect of a new case, as Teyla knew it would be. "What've we got, boss?"

"Dead Navy nurse in Silver Springs," O'Neill replied. He threw the keys to Rodney, who missed them. O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Gas the truck, McKay."

* * *

Teyla shivered as a gust of cold wind blew through the alleyway, a remnant of a particularly nasty winter that had not yet decided to relinquish its grasp and give way to spring. She snapped a photo of the young woman's shoe, found nearly thirty feet from the body, and then nodded to a CSU analyst that it was ready to be bagged.

At the other end of the alley, John was taking statements while hunched down as far as he could go within the warmth of his flipped-up collar. Teyla knew that she would have to endure his griping for the next several hours about the inhumanity of not being allowed to take statements in the warmth of the nearby clubs. She suspected that John was made of stronger stuff than he let on but kept up appearances to throw her off the scent. She did not know, though, if it was because he liked to surprise people with his mettle or because he knew that if he kept expectations low he might never have to disappoint anyone.

McKay was near the body, taking measurements and sketching the scene.

Teyla hurried over. "Where is O'Neill?" she asked.

McKay gestured that O'Neill had walked around the corner. "Director Weir called. He said that if didn't feel right yelling in front of a DB."

"What are they discussing?"

McKay shrugged. "Who knows, who cares? When Mom and Dad fight, I tune it out. I've already been through the divorced-parents thing."

Teyla smiled. O'Neill and Elizabeth did often sound like feuding parents, even to the point that they tried to keep their fights from 'the kids'.

Dr. Beckett, their medical examiner, glanced up from his inspection of the body. "Such cynicism, McKay."

McKay jotted down a few more notes. "Everyone has to have their specialty. Cynicism happens to be one of many that I possess."

Teyla glanced over as O'Neill ducked under the police tape and approached them at a clip. "What've you got, Carson?"

Dr. Beckett grimaced. "You know, Jack, a standard greeting such as 'Hello' or 'How are you' would not go amiss from time to time."

O'Neill crouched down next to him. "Hello, Dr. Beckett. What a fine morning we're having. Now, what've you got?"

Beckett harrumphed. "Gunshot wound to the forehead. Some slight bruising and contact burns around the entry wound."

"This was an execution," O'Neill observed as he bent over to examine the wound. "T.O.D?"

"With this cold snap, my best estimate is five hours ago." He stood up. "The bullet is still in the skull. I'll send it along to Ronon when I get back to the lab."

O'Neill nodded and gestured for Dr. Beckett to go ahead.

"Come, Mr. Zelenka," Dr. Beckett called to his assistant. "Let's not keep the young lady waiting."

A nearby patrolman, called in to keep the gawkers at bay, said to Teyla, "Does he always talk about the vics like that?"

"The dead deserve as much respect as the living, lad," Dr. Beckett called as he wandered away.

"Hey, boss." John trotted up. "Seems our lieutenant was a regular here at Callaghan's. The bartender said she came in with two other women. Didn't recognize either of them."

"Did you get a description?"

"Does 'hot' pass as a description?" John asked innocently.

O'Neill closed his eyes briefly then opened them again. "Set him up with a forensic artist. See if he can't come up with something."

Teyla and O'Neill exchanged looks as John jogged away again.

Teyla smiled and shrugged. "You were the one who hired him."

"And kept him on for four years," O'Neill muttered. "I should get my head examined."


	3. Law & Order

**3. Law & Order: **

"You didn't think this was going to come back and bite us all in the ass?" said E.A.D.A Rodney McKay, storming into his office. He threw his briefcase onto his desk.

His junior partner, A.D.A Teyla Emmagen followed him in with an apologetic look at the two detectives behind her. She sat in one of the chairs as Detective John Sheppard slumped down on the couch. His partner, Detective Ronon Dex, loomed in the doorway.

Rodney shot Dex a nervous look before apparently remembering his tirade. "Did your brain short out that you forgot to call and get a warrant?"

"I didn't _forget_ to call," Detective Sheppard said. "A woman's life was in danger. There wasn't time."

Rodney sighed and loosened his tie with one hand. "I appreciate the urgency of the situation you were in, Detective, but you have _royally screwed us over_."

"Hey, if we hadn't gone in when we did, you'd be trying a double-homicide instead of a homicide and a kidnapping," Detective Dex spoke up, his voice a notch above a growl.

"Well, in all likelihood, our murderer is going to walk."

This admission was followed by a moment of silence. Teyla finally broke it by saying, "We could argue inevitable discovery on the gun. It was one of Dielman's residences after all."

Rodney walked around his desk and sat down. "He's only a co-owner of the building; the other owner, Mr. Connors, has an expectation of privacy."

"Even when he's in Portugal?" Detective Sheppard asked.

"I don't make the rules," Rodney said. "But Judge Landry is sure as hell going to have something to say about it if we don't follow them."

"Not to mention Elizabeth," Teyla murmured.

"Our beneficent D.A. will be happy if we don't get our whole damn case thrown out."

"You think that's bad, you should have heard the Loo tear Sheppard a new one," Detective Dex said with dark glee.

Detective Sheppard glared at his partner. "Thank you for that. Loo would've done the same thing if he'd been in my position."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"So what are you going to do?" Detective Sheppard asked, turning his attention to Rodney.

Rodney laughed humorlessly. "It's not about what I'm going to do; it's about what _you're_ going to do."

The two detectives exchanged wary looks. "What are we gonna do?"

"Find me new evidence," Rodney answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "Any evidence that was from Dielman's business will be thrown out as soon as the prosecutor catches wind of what you did." Rodney sneered. "Kavanaugh's probably making up the subpoenas as we speak, that shit-faced little weasel."

Teyla shrugged when she saw Detective Sheppard's questioning expression.

"So you two are going to find me some new evidence that was obtained _legally_."

"And while we're doing that, what will you be doing, Your Excellency?" Detective Dex rumbled.

The E.A.D.A grimaced. "A legal tap dance."


	4. Mr & Mrs Smith

_A/N: I wanted to save this one until later, but I've ended up editing some of the others, and I've been sick, and I felt terrible about not getting these up sooner! All this to say, I'm posting this one earlier than planned. And thank you to all my lovely reviewers. I'm happy to know that my lunacy is appreciated. :)_

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**4. Mr. and Mrs. Smith:**

"Shit," John said, as a vase on the side bar above him shattered, raining bits of blue porcelain all around him. He slid lower down against the side bar, fumbling in his pocket for the extra shotgun shells he'd stashed there. Another round of automatic fire turned the wall opposite John into piece-meal, plaster and dust filling the air.

He loaded a few shells into his shotgun and got to his knees. He peeked around the half wall that separated the dining room from the living room and kitchen. From the direction of the shots he'd guess that Teyla was parked somewhere just passed the kitchen island, maybe behind the fridge. He aimed and fired, putting a significant hole in the island and sending a spray of wood everywhere. He wasn't going to kill her this way, but he could flush her out.

Another burst of bullets sent him ducking back again.

"Teyla!" he yelled. "Let's talk about this."

Her voice was calm as she answered: "There is nothing to talk about, John. We both have a job to do; only one of us will succeed."

John shielded himself as a picture frame exploded and showered him with falling glass. Somehow, he didn't imagine this was what the priest had in mind when he had them promise to have and to hold. Probably the phrase 'till death do you part' didn't extend to contract killers. Their life spans could be significantly shorter; Teyla certainly wanted to shorten his. John thought marriage was hard enough without his boss instructing him to kill his own wife. He wondered if Teyla would agree. She was putting a little more gusto in her assignment than he thought was strictly necessary. He understood that a job had to be done, regardless of the costs, but she didn't have to be so damn enthusiastic about the assignment.

"Come on, Teyla," he called, "you don't want to do this."

There was no reply.

"Teyla? Honey?"

John took a chance and glanced over the half wall, and was thrown back as the butt of a shotgun connected with his face. He fell back, coming within an inch of ramming his head into the floor as Teyla lowered her weapon and took aim. From his spot on his back he scissored his legs out, sweeping Teyla's feet out from under her. She landed hard but managed to roll into a crouched position. She threw her rifle out of his reach and pulled a knife out of a sheath in her boot. She grinned at him in a way that, if he weren't sure she wanted to kill him, would've made him think he was getting some tonight. There was something feral and incredibly sexy about that smile, one he hadn't seen in their last three years of marriage. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him and was probably going to be made into a human pin-cushion soon.

John ducked away as Teyla swung the knife at him. She whirled with the momentum and hit him in the back. He grunted in pain as the hilt connected with what felt like a kidney. He kept his head and allowed himself to fall, rolling to come up to his feet again. He blocked a kick, but wasn't quick enough to avoid an elbow to the temple as she came in close. He avoided a few swipes and managed to grab her knife hand, twisting it away from himself and trying to ram it on the nearest hard surface.

Teyla nearly kneed him in the stomach for his pains but the knife dropped out of her hand as it smacked against the side of the china cabinet. John managed to kick it under the cabinet before she could grab it. She made a noise that sounded like a growl, and grabbed John by the front of his t-shirt, shoving him back into the china cabinet. He heard the glass in the doors crack but, thankfully, remain otherwise intact. If he lived through this, picking glass out of his back would be one experience he wanted to do without.

She let go and lunged for her knife. John grabbed her by the leg and yanked back, sending both of them sprawling to the floor. She kicked away from him and got to her feet as he did the same.

"This is going to happen, John," Teyla said as they circled each other. "Why draw out the process any longer?"

"There are easier ways of ending a marriage," John replied dryly. It wasn't really the time for sarcasm but he couldn't help himself.

Teyla smiled, obviously recognizing his tone. "But none of them will leave me with the house, the dog, and _both_ bank accounts. Besides, what is it they say about the thrill of the chase?"

John maneuvered away as she spun and aimed a roundhouse kick at his head. He dodged it and threw a punch, which she ducked under and threw one of her own. He blocked it and said, "That's about love, not murder."

"Ask any cop: murder is a crime of passion."

"But this isn't murder, it's business."

She grinned again. "I am glad you are finally seeing it my way."

John turned and made a break for it, vaulting over the half wall that separated the kitchen and dining room. Teyla was fast on his heels, but if he could reach his Glock, hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets, he might just make it out alive.

He dove for the cabinet next to the refrigerator, flung the door open, and his hand had just closed on the Glock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked next to his ear.

John froze. He was dead. A minute or two here or there made no difference. His current state of being didn't take away from the fact that he was a dead man who just hadn't stopped breathing yet.

"Teyla," he said slowly, "you don't want to do this." Hell, just because he was dead didn't mean he couldn't have a few last words.

"How do you know what I want, John?" Teyla's voice was calm.

"Because I know you. Let's just talk this out." John spared a glance over his shoulder. His wife's face was impassive, but Teyla always did have the best poker face around.

"I think the time for talking has passed, John. I am sorry."

John rolled over onto his back and held up his hands in a placating gesture, showing her that his hands were empty. "Don't do this, Teyla. I know you, and I know you don't want to do this." _I hope_, he added silently. "You don't want to kill me, but you think you don't have any other options."

Teyla raised an eyebrow but didn't disagree. John took that as a good sign.

"I think I have an idea, a way we can both get out of this alive." He smiled a little. "It's crazy, but I think it just might work."

Teyla stared at him for a long time. John could practically hear the last few seconds of his life ticking away.

Finally, she smiled and propped the shotgun against her shoulder. "What did you have in mind?"


	5. Cashmere Mafia

A/N: The sugary fluffiness...it burns!! Oh, well, it's the only one, I promise...

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers - you guys always make my day!

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**5: Cashmere Mafia**

Elizabeth Weir took a sip of her wine, and then said slowly, "Teyla, I have some news that you're not going to like."

Teyla looked over at her friend. "Yes?"

"Maybe you should put down the wine glass," Jennifer Keller advised, exchanging a look with Elizabeth.

Teyla did as instructed, giving her friends a querying look.

"I just found out that Larrin Travelle was invited to the benefit tonight," Elizabeth said. She grimaced. "I'd uninvite her if I could—"

"I understand," Teyla said. "It was not your doing." She smiled brightly although it felt false. "Besides, merely because she is in town again does not mean she will do anything untoward."

Laura grinned. "Like try to poison your cocktail so she can have John all to herself."

The women all laughed. "Something like that," Teyla said. "I know she has a fondness for scenes, but I cannot see her making one tonight."

"The woman's a leech," commented Elizabeth in a decisive tone. "She always wants what she can't have. Remember the incident with Governor Radim? She's lucky his wife didn't have her killed."

"Now, now," Jennifer chided. "Those were only rumors that his wife has ties to the Cowen crime family. That's never been proven."

"Perhaps it is because she is very good at hiding the bodies," Teyla teased. She looked around the table at her friends, serious once more. "Larrin does not concern me. I may not trust her but I trust John."

"You're braver than me," said Laura. "It doesn't matter how much I trust my husband. If a woman like that had her sights set on Carson, I'd change our names and move to some backwater hidey-hole so she couldn't find him." She took a bite of her salad and chewed thoughtfully. "Well, that or handcuff him to me and throw away the key."

"I thought that was a regular Saturday night for you," Jennifer said, and laughed when Laura tossed a spinach leaf her way.

Laura reached over and squeezed Teyla's hand. "Hey, we'll run interference tonight if you want."

Teyla smiled again, and thought her face might crack. "It will be fine. It will."

"We need more wine," Elizabeth decided, and signaled to the waiter to bring another bottle.

Teyla took a too-large mouthful of her wine, and nodded morosely. "Too true."

*

As Teyla got ready for Elizabeth's benefit that night, she couldn't help but stare at the two pictures that sat on top of the dresser.

The first was in a monogrammed silver frame – a picture of her and John on their wedding day. Elizabeth's long-time boyfriend, Ronon, had taken it, and it was Teyla's favorite photo of her and John. He had his arm around her waist, a mischievous smile on his face while she laughed at what he was saying to her. Ronon had snapped the picture of them while they had been admiring the gardens of the Cheyenne Resort – a moment's peace from their two hundred guests. They hadn't realized he'd taken the photo until he presented it to them on their first anniversary. Teyla didn't remember what John had been saying to her, but she remembered the way she felt, that overwhelming giddiness – a mixture of relief that the wedding with its stress and planning was now finished and joy that she was finally married to the man she loved and that loved her in return.

The second picture on the dresser was of them with their two children – six year-old Mara and four year-old Torren – on vacation in Hawaii earlier in the year. They were all sun-tanned and carefree, smiling happily at the camera – the kind of relaxation that came from spending two weeks away from the city in a sun-drenched paradise where the most pressing decision they made was whether to go surfing or take a nap by the pool. By the time they had to leave they all had salt and sand in places no one wanted to think about, the kids were begging John to buy a summer home there, and John was semi-seriously considering quitting his job to open a surfing school in Oahu. She figured it would be irresponsible of them to pull the kids out of school half way through the school year, but it would be a simpler life, moving to Hawaii. No society events, no more climbing the corporate ladder for either her or John, and no Larrin Travelle to make their lives unpleasant.

"Teyla?"

She turned to find John standing in the open doorway of their bathroom, buttoning his shirt.

"You okay?" he asked. She nodded, and he continued, saying: "Only, you've been trying to fasten your necklace for fifteen minutes now."

Teyla sighed and handed the necklace to her husband for him to do. "There is something you should know."

His eyes lit up. "You've decided that you really do want to move to Hawaii after all."

"Tempting, but no. Larrin Travelle is going to be at the benefit tonight."

"Huh." John finished fastening the necklace on her, stepped back to look at it a moment, then disappeared into the closet. Teyla waited a moment to see if he might finish that thought, then when it appeared that he was done, she followed him.

"That is all? You have nothing else to say besides 'huh'?"

He held up two ties. "Which one?"

"The blue. John, I asked you about Larrin."

"I know you two don't get along, but I doubt that she's going to throw down with you at the benefit." He tugged at his tie one last time, turning to face her. "Look, if you don't want to go tonight, that's fine. You can even blame it on me. Tell Elizabeth that I got food poisoning or something and you're going to stay home to take care of me." When Teyla raised her eyebrows, he said, "You're right. She'd never believe that."

Teyla frowned at her husband. "You do know why Larrin and I don't get along, right?"

John shrugged a shoulder. "Because you think she's still not over me."

"How can you be so casual about this?"

John slumped a little, a telltale sign that he was about to say something that he thought was overly emotional, and therefore made him uncomfortable. It was a trait he'd had as long as Teyla had known him, something that even eight years of marriage had not cured him of. "Because it doesn't matter if she is or isn't. Because you have nothing to be worried about. You know why?"

"Because you love me?" Teyla guessed.

"That, and I'm very afraid of you."

Teyla smacked his arm, but couldn't help smiling.

"What? You can kick my ass." John leaned close and said, "One of the many things I love."

Teyla grasped John's hand and squeezed. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Hey, that's what I'm here for. Now, shall we go, or am I still coming down with a sudden case of food poisoning?"

"Let's go."


	6. Dresden Files

"Rodney, have you seen the cat food?" John yelled as he ducked his head to peer under the sink.

"A better question," a dry, clipped voice replied, "might be if I've seen the cat. And it's in your lab."

John straightened up and turned to find Rodney standing directly behind him. Years of experience kept him from yelping, but he did jump back. He forcefully expelled a breath. "If I could put a bell on you, I would."

"That's right," the ghost said peevishly. "Kick a man when he's dead."

"Why is the cat food in the lab?"

"Why would I be privy to the insanity that is the inner workings of your mind, or for that matter, why would I want to be?"

John smiled benignly. "Pleasure talking to you as always, Rodney." John slipped passed him and made for his workroom. His progress was halted by the sound of the telephone.

"Phone," Rodney called before disappearing through the far wall

John rolled his eyes and grabbed the phone. "John Sheppard."

"Sheppard, this is Lieutenant Emmagen," the voice on the other end said.

"Lieutenant," John said pleasantly as he perched on the back of the couch. "What can I do for you this fine morning?"

"I have a case that I need your help on."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" John said. "I must've heard you wrong."

He heard an annoyed sigh on the other end, making him grin.

"I will not repeat myself. Do you want the case or not?"

John scratched the back of his neck. "Well, here's the thing: I would like to help you, Lieutenant, but I'm afraid—"

"I will take care of your parking tickets."

"That's great, Lieutenant, and don't think I don't appreciate that—"

"What a horrible sentence," Rodney said from somewhere behind him. "Believe you me, I'm turning over in my grave as we speak."

John waved him away with an annoyed glare. "—but a little financial restitution would not go amiss."

There was silence on the other end of the line, and John could just imagine the struggle of emotions that was playing across Emmagen's face. He'd noticed it happening a lot more often lately.

"I will put in a requisition. But I cannot promise you anything."

John smiled. "What's the case, Lieutenant?"

* * *

"Please tell me you have never seen anything like this before," Lieutenant Emmagen said to him.

John stuck his hands in his coat pockets and crouched down next to the body for a better look. After a moment, he squinted up at the lieutenant. "What are your feelings about the truth today?"

Lieutenant Emmagen stopped taking notes for a moment and peered down at him. "Would that be your truth or my truth, Sheppard?"

"Mine," he acknowledged with a wry smile.

She sighed. "Would your truth involve magical elements?"

John looked back down at the body. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it does today."

"I am not going to like this, am I?"

The body on the ground next to him was shredded – that was the only word for it. Well, horrifying was also a word for it, but John tried not to think about that one because every time he did his stomach rolled disturbingly. It had been a woman once, before she had been torn apart. Her face was all but unrecognizable. Those parts of her scalp that hadn't been ripped off were so matted with blood that it was impossible to tell what color her hair had been.

John took a deep breath, making sure to inhale through his mouth. "What's to like?" he muttered and stood up. "Yes, I've seen this before – once."

The lieutenant's partner, Detective Lorne, walked up just in time to hear him say that. "And?" he prompted.

"Let's just say this wasn't a pit bull attack."

"If you say the word 'werewolf', I will be forced to shoot you," the Lieutenant said in a low, slow voice.

John could tell from her expression that she was only half kidding.

"Then you'll be relieved to know that that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say 'shapeshifter'," he replied, and took a deliberate step backwards.

Detective Lorne looked from John to the Lieutenant and back again. "Shapeshifter? Are you for real?"

John shrugged and moved towards a bench a few feet away. He sat down, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. "Looks like it. I'd guess you were looking at a Loup-garou, not a werewolf. Could be a lycanthrope, but that wouldn't be my first guess."

Lt. Emmagen sighed and glanced up at the sky. The sun looked like it wanted to break through the thick gray haze, but just didn't have the strength. "Do you know how to stop it?"

"Yes. But you're not going to like it."

"When has that ever stopped you?" she muttered, and with her partner in tow, turned and walked back to the body.

* * *

A/N: This is based on the TV series, not the books, in case you can't tell. I'm not familiar enough with the books to do their world justice.


	7. Circle of Magic

John stood just outside the gate of Discipline cottage. He couldn't quite make himself go inside, so he stood and stared at the cottage. It hadn't changed a bit since he'd been away – more than seven years he thought, although time had blended together in such a way that it could have been more time or less without him noticing. He wished he had taken up Jack's offer to accompany him back. But, no, Jack had other things to do between the day John left Summersea and when Jack himself had to be back at Winding Circle for the wedding.

Even though Jack's offer had been less than enthusiastic and John knew that the mage was just being uncommonly considerate, it still would have been nice to have the support. John didn't do emotional farewells or greetings, and he was afraid that this was going to turn out to be exactly one of those moments. Jack's biting comments and sarcastic remarks would've kept things from getting too awkward, and his return would have taken some of the attention away from John.

A trellis of roses had grown up over the fence in his absence. Someone had watered a little too religiously and had been a little too giving with the fertilizer. They were wild and unbidden, growing every which way. John reached out to stroke a leaf. It shirked a little at his touch, knowing that its days of unhindered growth were at an end.

John sighed, frustrated, and ran a rough hand through his hair. This wasn't going well, and he hadn't even gotten the nerve up to walk through the gate yet. He should be able to do this. It wasn't like these people were strangers, after all. He had grown up with them. They knew more about him than almost any other soul (save for Jack, and maybe Sam).

But he hadn't seen them in seven years, and except for the occasional hastily written letter, he hadn't communicated with any of them in nearly as long. What did he know about these people anymore? Was Teyla still as serene and regal as she'd been when they were little more than children? Did her eyes still light up when she smiled? Would Rodney still act like the most intelligent person in the room? Was he still as impatient as he'd been while learning to control his magic? And did Ronon still shovel his food down like it might be stolen away at any moment? Was he still as fiercely loyal as he'd always been?

And there were things – things he'd witnessed, things he'd experienced – in the last few years that he couldn't talk about. Things that made it hard to sleep and even harder to be awake. Jack knew, but Jack was many miles away, and John didn't know how to explain, even to his foster siblings.

He set his bag down and leaned against the fence. He shouldn't have to work up the courage to see his family.

* * *

Rodney frowned out the window before calling, "Teyla?" He could hear her singing softly in the other room.

She walked into the room, arms laden with blankets and clean sheets and set them down on Rodney's bed. "Hmm?"

"He's been standing outside the gate for an hour now."

Teyla looked up from straightening his quilt. He'd noticed in the past two days that she seemed to have an incontrollable urge to stay busy, even when it was only straightening up after him and Ronon.

"Who has?" she asked.

"John."

In a moment she was by his side at the window, leaning on the windowsill to peer out. "What is he doing out there?"

Rodney shrugged. "Trying to take root would be my guess."

"I do not believe that his magic has extended to that point," Teyla said.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "That was sarcasm, Teyla."

"Yes, I know, and I chose to ignore it."

"What are you doing?" Ronon asked, sticking his head in the room.

"Wondering why John has been standing outside the gate for the better part of an hour," Teyla answered.

Ronon joined them at the window, crossing his arms over his chest to observe the scene outside. "John's here? What's he doing out there?"

"Good question," Rodney said. He turned to Teyla. "If he misses my wedding because he can't move from that spot, I will make lightening strike him."

Ronon grinned. "You can't do that."

Rodney mimicked his position, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can, too," he said defensively. "I did it that one time."

"That was a war barge. It was a giant target, and it was a lucky shot."

"It was skill."

"Your next act of skill almost struck you."

Rodney opened his mouth to argue then shut it. Ronon was right after all, and that time, when he was twelve years old and had actually struck a war barge with lightening had been the first and last time. Rodney liked flexing his magical muscles as much as anyone, but there was power and then there was stupidity; one could lead to the other, and they both could make you dead.

"What should we do?" Rodney asked, craning his head a little. "Should we just let him stand there?"

"He will make up his mind eventually," Teyla replied. "You know how he is."

Ronon looked at the other two with raised eyebrows. After a moment, he rolled his eyes and walked out of the room and down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"What is he-?" Rodney glanced at Teyla. "Is he going outside?"

She smiled and shrugged. She followed Ronon down the stairs and to the doorway that he had left open. She could hear Rodney sputtering quietly behind her, but she wasn't about to miss the show.

Ronon stood on the porch, arms akimbo. "Are you going to stand there all day?" he yelled to John.

John held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. His shoulders heaved up and then down in something that could have been a shrug or could have been a sigh. After a long moment, he reached out and opened the gate. Two steps and he was through, the gate swinging back into place behind him. He took a few steps forward, then stopped.

Teyla pushed passed Ronon, pausing long enough to flash him a quick smile, then hurried forward to where John had paused.

"Hi," John said when she stopped in front of him.

She studied him for a long moment. She'd often wondered what sort of man John would turn out to be. As a youth he'd been impetuous, outgoing, and loyal to a fault. He'd been the first one to throw a punch and the first one to talk anyone off of a ledge. She did not know everything that had happened to him in the last seven years – they had gone their separate ways, and had lost touch in the busyness of life. She had heard whispers of where he'd been, and Sam had told them a few stories about the horrors he and Jack had witnessed during the war in Gyongxe, but somehow Teyla had thought that John would be impervious to such things. John was the strong one, after all.

But this man in front of her wasn't impervious. She could see it in his eyes. This man was haunted.

Teyla moved forward and put her arms around him, hugging him tight. After a moment, his arms came up and he returned her hug. It was tentative, but it was a start.

She stepped back, only so far as she needed to be able to see his face. She kept her hands on his arms, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Welcome home, John," she said.

A little of the tension that had been in his shoulders lessened, and he ducked his head, strangely bashful. "Thanks. It's good to be back."

"Are you guys coming in, or what?" Rodney yelled from the open doorway.

John and Teyla shared a smile, and in unison they yelled back, "Or what."

"Oh, ha ha," Rodney responded. "Very funny."

Teyla slipped her arm through John's, and together with Ronon they followed Rodney inside.

* * *

A/N: An imaginary prize to anyone who can guess which SG/SGA character is based on which Circle of Magic character!


End file.
